


Hold Me Down

by suomifae



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Demon AU, M/M, demon!plasmius - Freeform, forgive me Father Masters for I have sinned, priest!Vlad, rated B for Blasphemy of the highest degree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suomifae/pseuds/suomifae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father Masters is no saint and when a certain demon comes a calling he will not be denied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> do u know how long this took me bc i had to stop every five minutes to douse myself in holy water
> 
> Title is from Hold Me Down by Halsey bc prom had me listening to this on repeat while i wrote, you can blame her naughty stream for this btw

Father Masters was in the middle of a sermon when he felt a familiar tingle arch down his spine, almost making him stutter through a verse. He barely kept his calm façade as a ghost of a hand crawled its way up his pant leg. Dammit, did it have to be _now_ of all times? He was in the middle of service for Christ’s sake!

He continued on, valiantly and without another waver in his voice, as the hand crept further and further up and he got hotter and hotter all over. The collar of his robes was suddenly feeling much too tight as his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed harshly. A demon with no decency, he should have expected as such.

The hand reached his thigh and he nearly buckled behind his podium. But he kept on with his sermon. Diligently, _faithfully_. He was a man of God after all.

He closed his eyes as he continued on, the crowd thinking he was being demure and solemn in his sermon, but truthfully he just wanted to escape their gaze. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye when the hand of a demon was roaming around his body. There couldn’t be a thing more sacrilegious than this and it was torturous knowing he, a _priest_ , was going straight to hell for all of it, but deep down, he didn’t care enough to make it stop.

With a snap of his bible, Father Masters ended his far too long sermon and opened his eyes to look to the ceiling of the cathedral. He bade everyone a good day and asked that God be with them before turning on his heel and briskly walking to the nearest empty room in the church. Whispers followed him because of the strange behavior but he didn’t look back.

A deep chuckle echoed in his ear as the hands continued their path along his body, making his spine arch, his thighs quiver, and his body temperature reach new heights.

“Father Masters,” a deep voice admonished gleefully, “such a naughty, naughty man.”

“ _You_ are the one that started getting handsy in the middle of service!” he shot back angrily, he hated this demon with every fiber of his being. But his hands, oh his hands, they had led him down the path of temptation and there was no going back.

A warning growl sounded in his ear as a large hot body materialized right behind him, the hands previously exploring his body turned solid and roughly shoved him against a wall.

Vlad had the breath knocked out of him from the shove as the voice, furious and rough, snarled into his neck, “I do what I want, _priest._ You’re the one who sold your soul to the devil.”

Claws ripped and shredded his clothes and he hissed when they scratched just hard enough to leave welts in his skin. He shivered into the thick body pressing into him from behind as fangs hovered over his neck, barely scraping and leaving his skin tingling, hot breath fanning the area.

“I-I-,” he stuttered out between heavy pants, his hands were held in a tight grip behind his back, “I di-d n-no such th-thing!”

The last stitch of his clothing fell to the ground and he was left bare, hard and aching, still held captive by claws and strong arms. The only thing left on his body was his crucifix.

“Oh yes, you did,” a forked tongue licked the shell of his ear, “the moment you first succumbed to me, you signed a _contract_ , little holy man.”

“N-no!” he gasped, he didn’t know why he was denying this so heatedly. Perhaps he felt that he had to protect the very last shred of his virtue, perhaps he was in denial about his own situation, or perhaps he was just a glutton for punishment.

“No?” the demon growled before shoving Vlad to his knees, “You can’t _say no_ to me, Father, you gave up that ability _years_ ago.”

A collar, thick and velvety, appeared around his neck, likely conjured by the monster behind him. “But, maybe I should _remind_ you, my little pet priest.”

Vlad continued panting, still wound up, still _aching_ , and unable to say a word because deep down he knew that he _wanted_ this, wanted this despite everything he had ever been taught and believed in. It was blasphemy, what was happening here, what _had_ been happening for years, but he just couldn’t care. It always felt so _good_.

Chains clinked lightly as his head was pulled back from the neck by the collar, he gasped but made no move to stop the demon. He couldn’t, not with the bindings now keeping his hands tied together behind his back, even if he wanted to.

A pointed tail brushed against his neck and curled under his chin as the demon purred, “Who is the master here?”

Vlad hissed when fangs suddenly sunk into his shoulder but he refused to make another sound. He had _some_ sort of dignity still left and he wasn’t about to lose it because of a _game_ Plasmius, the wretched demon, was trying to play. He would not succumb any further.

“ _Who_ , is the master here,” the chain tugged harder and he keened softly when a claw scraped against a nipple, “ _priest_?”

Vlad groaned but kept his mouth shut. Why did he have to play such games? Why make him suffer, why make him wait? Why extend this agonizing torture? He wouldn’t give in again, not this time. He wouldn’t give him what he wanted, not if the demon refused to do the same.

He chocked when fingers were suddenly shoved into his mouth, claws thankfully retracted, “If you won’t say anything then we may as well put that pretty mouth to _use_ , hmm?”

Slowly, ever so agonizingly slowly, another hand trailed its way down his chest leaving more scratches in its wake, until finally, oh Lord _finally_ , it wrapped around his painfully throbbing erection. He groaned behind the fingers in his mouth, those hands always felt so very, very good and he was so very, very desperate for relief.

Just as slowly, the hand stroked him, teasing him. He was going to die from this pleasure, or he was going to die from this pleasure being denied. Either way he was going to die and hell would be waiting for him. He moaned when that mischievous forked tongue made its way up his back and across his shoulders into the crook of his neck.

“Will you be a good boy, priest?” the voice murmured roughly behind him, the collar at his neck tugging from an unseen force, “Hmm?”

Vlad coughed when the fingers were removed from his mouth, saliva trailing down his chin. He gasped in a panting breath. “No.”

“No?” Plasmius removed his hand from Vlad’s cock and he whimpered at the loss. “Then I’ll have to _make_ you.”

Suddenly Vlad was being shoved to the floor, collar tight around his throat. Hands grabbed him roughly, maneuvering his body like a ragdoll. One gripped his hip hard enough to leave bruises and the other, covered in saliva, teased at his entrance. Fangs bit at his shoulder and that invisible force tugged at his hair. He felt the demon’s tail wrap around his leg, pointed end scratching at his thigh and making him tremble.

“I’m going to tease you to _death_ , my priest.”

Vlad cried out as Plasmius’ fingers entered him roughly, slick and thick but too much all at once. This was going to be the sweetest kind of torture, he could tell.

“S-Sweet Mother M-Mary,” he whispered hoarsely, cursing the demon as he hit that spot inside him that burned so good and made his body convulse under Plasmius’ hands.

“No mother can help you now,” the demon growled in his ear, body hot against Vlad’s back, incinerating him inside and out.

Plasmius pulled his fingers away and Vlad keened again, the tight grip of the hand on his hip burning fiercely. Something even hotter and heavier nudged him from behind, taking its damned sweet time to enter him when all he wanted was to be _filled_ for Christ’s sake. Vlad panted and tried to cant his hips up for more but that scorching hand on his hip kept him still with dominant force.

“Ah, ah, Father Masters,” Plasmius cooed, “you have to be a _good boy_ first.”

Vlad growled and tried to buck again, fighting against the hold. He would not succumb, he would not.

But then he was covered in invisible hands, everywhere, touching lightly, delicately. They were sweeping over his back, his neck, tangling in his hair, stroking his face, stroking his _thighs_ , and touching in the most sensitive places. But the sensation was so soft and light it was driving him mad, they were just enough to leave him wanting and not enough to satisfy.

No there were only two hands he desired most that would ever satisfy.

“Just,” he panted, “ _fuck me_ already,” he words were weak but demanding. He couldn’t stand much more of this, but he still refused to break.

“Ohh,” the demon chuckled, “dirty words from a dirty priest. I suppose that’ll do this time around.”

And then, inch by inch, Vlad was being filled. Oh so agonizingly slowly. One of Plasmius’s hands, the one not holding his hip in an iron grip, reached down and began stroking him, just as agonizingly slowly. Vlad was damn near close to oblivion with how much he _ached_ and wanted. He wanted the demon to go faster dammit!

Chains clinked again as a force pulled his collar back and the demon slid all the way in, he shuddered and moaned. He panted and keened as Plasmius decided to stay _absolutely still_.

“Beg,” the demon growled, leaving no room for argument. The deep rumble sent even more shivers down Vlad’s spine. He knew when to push the demon and when disobeying could kill him, sometimes it was a rather fine line.

“P-please,” he gasped immediately, he wasn’t in mind to die tonight because of some silly thing like dignity. He was far too gone to care anymore, anyway. He needed this demon to fuck him and he needed it _now_.

“Good boy.”

And then he pulled out, and then he thrust back in. Hard and fast.

And Vlad was moaning and panting and falling into the dark spiral of ecstasy as Plasmius hit that sweet spot inside him with deadly accuracy. He was dying the most blissful death and he didn’t even care. He was in rapture.

With every thrust into his body Vlad grew hotter and hotter, and more and more desperate for release. That coil of sweet pleasure began building in his core and he was getting closer and closer, and Plasmius was thrusting faster and faster.

The hand around his cock started moving in time with the thrusts and Vlad was absolute putty in the monster’s hands. The pleasure grew to be near unbearable before he came with a sharp cry, splattering semen all over the floorboards of the church.

Plasmius grunted before thrusting in one last time and releasing inside him, and then pulling out without preamble. Vlad was left shivering and raw as he fully collapsed onto the floor.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” the demon cooed as he cleaned himself up with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t bother with Vlad.

“You’re horrible,” Vlad snapped back, voice hoarse and rough. He sounded pathetic to his own ears. He felt like he was.

“Ah, but you enjoyed it,” Plasmius taunted back, smug and sated.

Vlad said nothing, he couldn’t deny that he had but neither would he ever admit it. “Just conjure me some robes before some poor, curious church-goer finds us. I have an image to maintain, you know.”

“Fine, fine,” and with a wave of his hand Plasmius had him clean and clothed. His short hair was even back in neat order and he looked just as prim and proper as before.

Vlad glared up at the demon as he slowly sat up rubbing at his neck where the band of his priestly outfit chaffed against the light bruises left by the collar. He still felt boneless and raw, like he could collapse at any moment. It felt nicer than he would ever admit.

“Thank you,” he sniped, finally raising to his feet, one hand curled around the useless crucifix at his neck.

“Anytime,” Plasmius grinned before disappearing without a trace. No indication he had ever existed in the first place, aside from the bruises, bite marks, and scratches adorning Vlad’s body under his robes.

And Father Masters went about the rest of his day, marching around the cathedral as if nothing had ever happened, apologizing to those still in the church for his behavior but giving them no explanation. No one questioned it.

Father Masters was a holy man, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> jfc im out of practice with smut no one look at meeee


End file.
